VaLkA

mare / four / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

Though she had not managed to intercede and prevent the gold-and-white stallion from driving off the smaller red mare, Valka’s visit to the commons had still felt like a small victory. She had not, after all, hoped to return with a new companion - particularly one as endearing as Sæunn. And while it was clear that the skjaldmær would have her work cut out for her in teaching the golden mare about her new home, it was a task that Valka was, perhaps, uniquely suited to. When she had stumbled upon the islands, the Yakut had learned both the language and culture through trial and error. Now, she strove to spend time with Sæunn every day, so that the Icelandic-blooded mare would not need to resort to the same.

Some days they would stand on the outskirts of the herd, and Valka would share what she knew of the archipelago. Others, the pony-sized mare might coax her taller companion along on one of her patrols, and they would recite the list of words that she’d been attempting to teach Sæunn. And while the progress felt slow, the fluffy chestnut felt that it was hindered more by her own tenuous grasp of the language than it was any lack on her friend’s part. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise her if the other mare inevitably surpassed her ability, and would one day be found drilling Valka in the same way.

That said, they didn’t spend every moment together - the Yakutian mare did not wish to deprive Sæunn of the companionship of the herd. And on one particular day, it had turned out to be fortunate - at least where the golden mare was concerned. Bjorn had returned as he’d vowed, having secured his victory over the Inlet’s previous king - but shortly after, a large golden stallion whom Valka could only assume was the Cove’s ruler had also arrived. And despite her efforts to step between their challenge, Solomon had been unswayable - and had inevitably driven the grullo Icelandic back into the sea. Furious, the small mare had thrown herself at the painted stallion, and they too had fought.

Despite her size, they had proven to be a fairly equal match. Lips peeled back and hooves flaying the beach, they had thrown themselves together time and again, until - until…

Valka shook her head to dispel the memory, not wanting her thoughts filled with the moments that had followed. Dawn had come and gone as she stood in reflection, and fought the truth that gnawed at the edge of her conscious thought. Because there was only one reason a stallion mounted a mare in that way, and inevitably only one result. As a warrior, she had been humiliated - and as a skjaldmær, desecrated. Had the gods turned their backs on her, to let such an event happen? Valka didn’t know, but she welcomed the distraction of the silver stallion arriving on the Bay’s shore as a drowning creature welcomed a breath of air. As unbearable as it had become to consider the future, she threw herself willingly into the present, charging down the slope with a ringing cry.

Having learned her lesson from Bjorn, the Yakut did not resort immediately to aggression. Instead, everything from her stiff-legged strides as she approached to her tense posture when she stopped before the spotted creature communicated her preparedness to meet a challenge - if one was forthcoming. It was still fall, after all, and she had her friend Sæunn to think of. She would not allow the golden mare to suffer the same humiliation that she had beneath Solomon’s powerful body. Just the thought of it made her bristle, so that the muzzle she’d offered for an exchange of breaths was wrinkled in an unconscious snarl when she withdrew it and spoke.

“You have come to Bay. I am Valka, ruler and skjaldmær here. Who are you, and what you want?”